


Happy birthday

by Lyrae



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Cake, Drug Use, Drugged Sherlock Holmes, Jim Moriarty in Sherlock's Mind Palace, M/M, Moriarty is Dead, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock's Birthday, Sherlock's Mind Palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28589766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrae/pseuds/Lyrae
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is visited by James Moriarty on his birthday.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	Happy birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this last year for Sherlock's birthday and decided to revamp it a bit :P  
> It was for a contest on Amino and the image is the edit I made to go with the text

Sherlock was waiting. 

Eyes closed, legs crossed, he was leaning into his leather chair and he was waiting, anticipating the familiar footsteps coming up the stairs, the creaking of the steps, the _man._

A pause, a stilled instant, and a second later, the door opened, revealing a black silhouette.

James Moriarty entered his flat, the spider looking barely human in his too sharp suit, looking around for a second before grinning in mock pleasantness. 

"Hullo."

The greeting drifted between them, unneeded, unanswered. 

"I didn't hear you coming up... Or knock. " Sherlock said dryly, not bothering to open his eyes.

An amused chuckle and a familiar voice echoed in the room, words rolling off the man's tongue and washing up his lips, laced with that maddening accent, that little something that spoke of danger and pain. 

"Come on Sherly, I thought you would be happy to see me! And in better circumstances this time… Didn't you miss me? "

_Of course I did._

Sherlock cracked an eye open, giving a sideway glance to the other, refusing to acknowledge the question when they both knew the answer. 

"The kettle is boiling." he simply commented. 

Jim grinned again, that impossible grin that always seemed to stretch too widely and show too many teeth, before putting down a small package on the table and merrily skipping away to retrieve the tea.

The thing was compact, a light cardboard box where the criminal had doodled crowns, guns and apples and glued an elaborate bow on top. 

Sherlock was leaning closer, scrutinizing the parcel with his hands hovering over the gift wrap when the other came back, bringing back plates and silverware along with the teacups.

_Something to eat then, and probably a cake seeing the occasion._

Sherlock glanced between the package and the criminal, waiting for that small grin, that eager nod, and finally opened it, uncovering two perfectly shaped apples covered with a glistening crimson sugar coat, familiar letters carved on the fake fruits.

"Again with the I-O-U Jim? I hadn't thought you would enjoy the repetition… That's unlike you."

The spider stayed silent, pouring them both a cup of tea, his smile widening illogically as he sent Sherlock a meaningful glance.

They both knew the letters had lost their original meanings a long time ago, knew the O had never stood for any kind of debt but had always represented just what was carved, the void between the I and the U, the wide chasm that separated them, everything that could have been but would never be, all the things that could have gone differently and changed the course of history. 

A beat, a silence, they both stared in the other's eyes before glancing down at their plates.

"Bon appetit darling~"

Sherlock ignored Jim's sing sang comment and carefully cut through the sugar coating, examining the apple's inside. It looked nice, really, certainly better than anything the detective could have done himself… But well, he was hardly a reference. 

"I didn't know you picked up baking." Sherlock drawled, wondering if the other had poisoned the dessert. 

_What a waste it would be…._

Multiple layers of different types of cakes, different flavours with different textures, from the colours alone, the detective could guess it was at least partly made with chocolate, but the criminal could have switched the hues to confuse him. 

"Well, I did. "

Sherlock frowned, staring at the criminal

"How? "

He took a bite of the cake, flavours exploding in his mouth, ignoring Jim who seemed more intent on observing his reaction than answering his question. His deductions had been right, if not nearly enough to prepare him. The taste was just sweet enough for the slight sourness of the apple, chocolate mousse and apple ice-cream melting in his mouth, yes, truly, the criminal had outdone himself. 

"What? I can't pick up a hobby without your say so Sherly? "

A slight smirk, the other leaning closer with defiance radiating from his very being. Sherlock scoffed, standing and turning around, away, stepping closer to the window. He told himself that he was just watching the snow lazily drifting toward the ground and not avoiding Jim's gaze. 

"We both know the answer to that question. "

The room was only filled with silence for an instant before it was broken by the screeching of a chair being pushed away. Jim crept behind him, so close Sherlock should have been able to feel him breathe down his neck, so close he should have felt the warmth radiating from the other's chest.

He did not. 

"We discussed it before, Sherlock… You said it yourself honey, we shouldn't mention it, not today, not that one day in the year."

And he sounded almost sad, almost _pained-_

That made Sherlock snap.

He turned around, violently grabbing the front of the smaller man's suit, eyes wide and manic, the question tumbling out of lips like a curse. 

"Then tell me, what was I supposed to say?"

Was he just supposed to forget what had happened on that rooftop? 

_"You're me! "_

_Heartfelt words followed by heartfelt thanks, a gunshot echoing in the cosmos._

Did he think Sherlock would forget just what that O represented now? 

That void between the I and the U, the only thing that still separated them, the bite mark mirroring the hole in Jim's skull-

Did he think Sherlock would forget his lover was dead? 

_"Dead is the new sexy. "_

The room started to shake around them as Sherlock lost his grip on the illusion, teacups shattering on the floor, cakes crumbling down to ashes. A beat, a deafening pause as the world shifted around him and he was once again leaning in his chair in 221b Baker Street, watching the dust drift in the air. 

James Moriarty had bowed out of life years ago, shooting himself in the mouth and departing this boring world after his last performance, but even now, Sherlock couldn't completely let go. 

How could he when a part of him had died that day? 

Not bothering to open his eyes, he reached out blindly, grabbing the syringe when he felt the glass under his fingers. 

Cocaine, seven per cent solution, just what he needed to run his perfect little fantasy until morning, a gift from his brother strangely enough... Mycroft refused to let him go back to his old habits, but he allowed Sherlock to lose himself in the illusion once a year if that meant he stayed clean the rest of the time. 

With practised ease, he injected himself, entering his mind palace once more, sighing softly. Everything felt cleaner, crisper, like a veil had been lifted from his eyes the moment the drug entered his system, and this time he knew that his little world wouldn't fall apart again. 

The door to 221b Baker street stood in front of him, path to heaven, gateway to hell, and he opened it, not bothering to knock. Things were exactly how he wanted them to be, a full cup of tea waiting on the table, the cake back to its pristine state, and Jim, dangerous, _glorious_ Jim, sitting in the detective's chair. 

The criminal smiled, softly, lovingly, the kind of smile Sherlock never saw on his face and now never would- _the kind of smile he would have never worn anyway,_ the rest of the world disappearing around them. 

It didn't matter though, because, for this one day of the year, he truly felt alive once more. 

_For this one day of the year..._

Dark hair, dark eyes, Jim stood up and straddled his lap, leaning closer, _closer,_ until his lips were hovering a breath away from Sherlock's ear. 

"Happy birthday love. "

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all liked this! Tell me what you thought :)


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